


Medicate

by chasingxrabbits



Series: Love and War [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas, One Direction (Band), The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fiend!Matty, FollowersDoctor!Harry, M/M, Underage!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingxrabbits/pseuds/chasingxrabbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic takes place in the Fallout: New Vegas verse. The year is 2281 and the world has been destroyed by nuclear war. To survive the nuclear fallout, people lived in vaults under ground. Most of the vaults are now abandoned as people walk the surface.</p>
<p>The Followers of the Apocalypse are a humanitarian group that focuses entirely on doctoring and science while the Fiends are a drugged up group of insane raiders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medicate

Harry lets out an exasperated sigh, long fingers dragging through his damp curls, shaking a tad with the nervousness he feels. He would have been just fine - would have been all comfy at the camp right now if he would have just paid attention. All it had taken was a noise in the brush a few feet off for his focus to be lost and suddenly, he’d found himself in the same respects - lost. His group had gone on and left him there in the wastes alone.

He’d been looking for well over an hour, trying to track them, but the sun is setting and he’s slowly losing his way and losing sight of the line of their footprints in the dry earth.

He’s a little on edge, of course - possibly a little scared; he’s never been lost in the Mojave before. As a matter of fact, it feels like he’s got dirt in the divots of his boots from all over the damn desert and here he is, fingers twitching as he situates the Follower’s issued plasma rifle strapped over his shoulder.

A sparkle like oil on water catches his eye in near distance and it takes him a second to figure out it’s the light of the setting sun reflecting off the hard shell of a radscorpion, New Vegas just starting to light up for the night on the horizon.

Harry reaches for his gun, but the creature is already scuttling towards him, moving fast and determined like a machine with four more joining behind it. He curses under his breath, cocking his rifle and trying to steady it as he starts in a quick jog the other direction. The first shot takes one of them out, bits of hard shell and goo spraying, but the next three shots miss their targets. He’s still got four scorpions tailing him and they’re getting closer every second so he makes it a point to relax his weapon and find safety.

He makes it to a mountain of rocks, piled at the base of a cliff and as he climbs them he can hear the sound of the scorpions scratching at the earth below, trying to follow behind him with their barbed tails whipping.

Nestled into the base of the cliff is the entrance to a vault and he sprints the rest of the way up, clicking the entrance pad on and shoving the lever until he hears the gears inside working, pulling the huge, iron door open far enough that he can slip inside. The door allows him about thirty seconds before closing itself, shutting just as the creatures outside are making their way up the path.

 

Once the door is locked back into place, the vault is scarily quiet - or might just seem that way due to the volume at which Harry is panting in dirty, stale air. He takes a step back from the control pad and goes to shoulder his weapon. He doesn’t even get time to breathe before he can hear the sound of a gun cocking behind him and he whips around, pulling his rifle up so fast his head spins.

Suddenly Harry’s staring down the barrel of a 9mm pistol at a pale face, hair shorn tight to the scalp on both sides of his head, leaving only a mop of night black locks down the middle to flop to one side.

“Sorry, I didn’t know this vault was occupied,” Harry says quickly and the man takes a step back, giving him a once over. Remaining as innocent looking as possible is more than likely his best chance at staying alive. Besides, Followers of the Apocalypse are lovers, not fighters.

“You wanna put down the weapon,” he pauses, eyes raking Harry’s torso again. “Doctor?” he requests cooly and Harry glances down to the Follower’s insignia on his lab coat - a circled cross on his chest.

“I’m not a doctor yet,” Harry teases, lips quirking up nervously as the words come out more as a question than anything. The other man must not find it very funny though because his gun arm straightens a bit, a gesture for Harry to do as he says. Despite finding the man fairly gentle in his approach, Harry drops his weapon to his side, holding his hands out.

“You gunna shoot me?” Harry asks, brows tipping up in the center. The other man feigns consideration for a second before slowly lowering his pistol.

“Nah, you’re just a kid. Barely off your mother’s tit,” he says coolly. “What are you doing in here?”

“I was running from radscorpions,” Harry informs, frown deepening as he watches the other man smirk snidely at him.

“Radscorpions? Why didn’t you just shoot them?” he asks, still skeptically eyeing Harry as he tucks his gun into the back of his dirty jeans.

Harry follows suit, strapping his own gun to his back.

“There were a lot of them. Big ones - not the little dog sized ones, I mean like big,” Harry says, and maybe he stretches the truth with how widely he makes the creatures look with his hands, but it seems necessary as the other man quirks a disinterested brow at him.

“Yeah, well, you’ll be leaving now,” he says to Harry’s surprise. “Run along and play doctor with your little friends, I’m busy.”

Harry scoffs nervously. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replies, trying to be as least threatening as possible as the man turns back around with an unamused look. He puts his hands up in surrender. “It’s just that I’m not very keen on being ripped apart by those awful things. I have a chip in my weapon - my group will come back for me in the morning.”

The man seems to stiffen at that, lips pursing into a hard line and Harry can read him.

Carefully, he asks, “You a Fiend?”

The other man nods, relaxing. “Don’t look so nervous.”

“Never met a friendly Fiend before,” he says, trying not to let it show how scared he actually is. The thing about Fiends is that they typically just don’t care. They’re unpredictable and strung out on all kinds of chems, all the time. Nobody but chem dealers has ever had a good experience with one.

“What’s your name?” Harry tries, wrapping his fingers around a metal railing connected to the wet grated floor tight enough to relieve some of the tension he’s carrying.

The other man looks honestly a little bored, like his attentions are truly elsewhere. “Matty.”

“I’m Harry.”

“‘Sa pleasure. I have work to do though-” Matt says, turning on his heel and heading through the main entrance to the vault. Harry follows quickly behind, not wanting to lose him in the dim lighting.

“What for? We’re stuck here all night now anyway,” he quips. Matt shoots him a look over his bony pale shoulder that’s sticking out under the collar of a ripped, black shirt.

Matt doesn't offer him an answer.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” Harry asks as their footfall echoes loudly around the metal room. Matt leads him down a flight of stairs and through another door to an old cafeteria.

It’s obviously been abandoned for a couple generations judging by the coating dust and grime on every surface. The floor is the typical checkered red and white print on every Vault-tec cafeteria, complete with the vinyl upholstered booths along the wall and the old broken down fridge behind the bar area.

Matty has an area set up on the floor in one of the sitting booths, a roll of blankets made into a makeshift bed, a lantern with a small generator and an old backpack full of goods. It’s all set up to look honestly kind of cozy if you’re into being alone in a creepy old vault by yourself.

“Supply run. Need to grab as many chems as possible. I was just on my way to the clinic if you insist on following me,” he informs, just a bit prickly as his hands dangling at his sides limply. He walks like he’s a little drugged up.

Harry does follow and stands behind him as Matty works to pick open the lock on the clinic door, popping it and then pressing the green button on the side that slides it open.

A door or two down, Harry can hear scratching that makes the hairs on his arms stand.

Matty glances at him, pulling a smirk again as he speaks. “Geckos. They’re locked in a room though - the door panel’s shot. Hope they don’t break out. They looked angry.”

Harry tries not to look terrified, but he finds himself scooting closer to Matty as a particularly vicious growl sounds through the tunnel system. Matty breathes a laugh at him, facing his attentions back to the task at hand.

“Beautiful,” he praises as his eyes rake the first aid kits sitting on a desk at the front of the room and an open locker in the back where a whole box of needles is propped up on a shelf.

The clinic is standardly build like all others - a sheer curtain around a surgical table and a set of tools laid out for the late doctor’s disposal. On the recovery bed is a pile of bones, mostly preserved in the shape of a curled up patient. Harry thinks if push came to shove, the ill would be the ones left behind in an emergency evacuation. He mourns the body silently for just a second.

As Matty raids the area, Harry’s eyes are drawn to a stack of books on a shelf by the door and he heads that way. He's never seen the copies before, which is surprising since The Followers have just about every single science book left untouched by the war’s greedy hands. Harry runs his fingers through the dust on the cover and opens to the first page.

It’s a book about babies and he reads on as he can hear Matt rummaging through cabinets in the back.

“Hey, I know you were here first and all, but do you mind if I take this book?” Harry asks, holding it up for Matty to see. He gets a disinterested hum in return and tucks the book under his arm immediately.

“If it's not about how to pump yourself full of Psyco without over dosing.,then there's nothing my boys are going to do with it. Most of them can’t even read anyway,” Matty says, cracking a smile that makes Harry a little warmish.

They head back to the cafeteria, stopping at a bathroom to snatch the various chems from a first aid box inside. Harry watches as Matty tucks a bottle of Buffout and three covered syringes of Med-X into his pocket. 

“You’ve nothing to sleep on then?” Matty asks as they get back to his booth and Harry shakes his head.

“No, we were headed to an NCR base to treat soldiers. We were supposed to get there by dusk so we didn’t pack well.” 

 

Matty is looking at him with a shade of disgust. “Why would you bother with that? And how’d you get lost anyway?” Matty asks, sitting down on his nest of blankets and lifting a knee to his chest.

Harry can feel his face heating again. “I, uh. Wasn’t paying attention. Just being careless. And I just go where they tell me to go, really. ”

Matty hums, amused look on his face. “There are loads of empty rooms with beds in them,” he hints. Harry's stomach tightens at the thought of having to sleep in a room alone here. "What if something sneaks up on us tonight?"

Matty squints at him, just a hint of something playful in his eyes. "Right, like the vault is haunted?"

 

Harry scoffs. "No, but if there's geckos, there could be anything right?"

 

"Well, if there is something, it's either going to kill us separately or together."

 

Harry rolls his eyes, standing and toying with the cafeteria door until it slides shut. For good measure, he turns the knob on the door to the "Locked" position, even though it's probably been broken for years. "There," he proclaims, turning around to find that Matty is giving him unconvinced smirk.

 

"I dunno, man. Seems like you might just be looking for an excuse to sleep with me."

 

Harry's eyes widen, bottom lip dropping open a bit. He goes to say something that sounds half as charming as anything that comes out of Matty's mouth but all he can think to say is, "That's stupid. You have food?” He already knows the answer because he can see the lumpy maroon skin of a piece of muttfruit, partially buried in Matty's things. Matty narrows his eyes at him and Harry can tell he’s not too keen on sharing his goods. Most people aren’t, but Harry hasn’t eaten since breakfast and his stomach is empty. His mouth starts to water.

They stare at each other for a second longer before Matty lets out a sigh, reaching down and plucking the hand-fruit from his bag. He hands it over, looking a little defeated. Harry doesn't miss the way their fingers brush in the exchange. 

Harry takes the food with a thankful grin. “I’ve never in my life met a Fiend as nice as you.”

The compliment seems to roll off of Matty's back. "You've caught me at a good time. I enjoy running for supplies," he says with the slightest quirk of a smile on his lips. Harry takes a bite of the fruit, juice spraying from it and his face reddens as Matty's thumb swipes away a drop of it that rolls down the side of Harry's mouth to his chin. He brings the the sticky digit back to his own lips, eyes lidding to make half circles of his deep brown iris'. Harry understands why everyone he's ever met makes Fiends out to be borderline savages - he's never seen someone so bold before. The way Matty's lips quirk up at the sides tells Harry he must have gotten the reaction he wanted. Harry has to look away as his stomach knots.

“The only other Fiends I’ve dealt with raided our fort one night trying to steal supplies - we had to put bullets in their heads. They were so strung out, I’m not sure they even knew what was happening,” Harry explains shakily. He wants to keep a straight expression, but he can feel his eyebrows tipping up in something like regret.

Matty seems to have no problem hearing about his people being slaughtered. “The ones that live in Vault 3 are a little more manageable than the ones on the outside.”

“Do you live in the Vault?” He tries not to sound prying, but he’s honestly a little perplexed by the Fiend that shares and cares. Matty offers back a nod as he watches Harry devour his dinner. 

"For a long time."

“How did you ever...” Harry starts, not knowing how to complete his thought.

“Family died bloody when I was young. Mum was always shooting Med-X and someone finally put her down. The Fiends found me and never looked back, I guess.”

Harry’s expression gives him away, a look on his face like a kicked puppy and Matty actually huffs a laugh at him.

“How old are you?” he asks. “What, like 16, 17?”

“17,” Harry agrees.

Matty starts by pulling a pack of cigarettes from his bag and lighting one with a sturdy metal thing that probably has more sentimental value than it deserves. "Why do you want to sign your life away to the Followers?"

“I quite like helping people,” Harry admits. "And I never have to worry where my food is coming from or if I'll have clean water to drink. I like the security of it." His eyes flick down to Matty’s knee where a patch of blood is seeping through the fabric. “You’re bleeding!”

“Usually am,” Matt responds with a shrug, nimble fingers toying with the area and coming back a little red-stained on the tips. His face is shocked as Harry grabs his hand, wiping the blood off his digits with a rag he recovered from his coat pocket. His eyes flick around to a bottle of whisky next to Matty’s bag and he soaks the cloth before dabbing at the open wound.

“Thought you weren’t a doctor yet,” Matty teases, taking a long drag from his cigarette, not even wincing when the sting of the alcohol hits him. He shoots Harry a playful smirk.

 

“Enough to treat a flesh wound,” Harry assures, ripping Matty’s jeans a little wider to better get to the cut. It’s quiet while Harry patches him up, but after a second he looks up to find Matty’s been watching his face the whole time. He sits back on his heels and lets out a long breath.

“You know, you could-” Harry starts, instantly stumbling on his words as his voice gets a little shakier. “Do something. Make something of yourself.”

Matt amusedly takes another inhale from his cigarette and lets it out slow. “Nah. I couldn’t. I’m addicted to so many things it’s hilarious-”

“We could help you,” Harry interrupts, breathing a little quicker as he becomes more excited with the idea. “We would help you for free-”

“Who says I want your help?” Matty snaps and it’s the first time since they’ve met that Harry’s heard him show any real emotion. It’s gone as quickly as it came and suddenly his face is mellowed out again. When he speaks this time it’s cool and collected like before. “I’m fine just where I am. I like my problems.”

“I-I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” Matty assures about to take another pull of his cigarette before Harry snatches it from his fingers, dabbing it out onto the linoleum. Harry thinks for a brief second that he’ll see Matt angry again but he just gives Harry a questioning look.

“Cigarettes are bad for you. Doctor’s orders,” Harry explains, trying to look as cute as possible but he actually receives a bark of a laugh.

“As if I need to worry about cigarettes ruining my health.”

The tension is running thick as their eyes meet and Harry tosses the bloody rag into the corner.

“Alright. Shouldn't you be trying to make a bed for yourself?” Matty prompts and Harry’s cheeks shade red. He doesn't want to admit that Matty would have to physically drag him away.

“I don't have any blankets.” Harry’s fingers fumble nervously with the hem of his shirt.

"You're just full of excuses, aren't you, Harry?" Harry meets his eyes, and instantly regrets it. Matty's smile is dripping with an impending victory, and Harry can't stop himself but smiling back.

“You can stay here, Harry. But I want you to just admit that you want to fuck me."

Harry is secretly hoping he'll just spontaneously combust to save him from that embarrassment. When that doesn't happen for him, he replies, “Yeah, maybe.”

Matty shakes his head and Harry startles a bit as chilled fingers run across his jawline. "I think you should be the one to say it, doctor. I want to hear you say it."

Harry scoots closer, testing the waters. When Matty puts his hand down on the blankets, Harry places his own on top of it, all while watching Matt's face for a reaction. "I want to fuck you," he practically whispers. It still sounds like a scream in his ears. Matty smirks over at him, huffing a laugh. Harry's face is burning as he's realizing Matty must think he doesn't know what he's doing. Harry leans over him, letting out a breath as he tries to will himself to be more confident. Matty's fingertips drag along the line of his throat and then up to steady his chin as Matty stretches his neck up and kisses him. Harry lets it deepen - provokes it with how he lets out a just-audible hum on his breath that screams volumes more about how contented he is like this.

Matty opens him up, licking teasingly into his mouth and finding Harry’s tongue, sweet from the few bites of that muttfruit minutes ago. Somehow, Harry finds his fingers tangled up in Matty’s black hair, tugging roughly enough that he hears Matty groan.

Matt maneuvers them until Harry is mostly laying on the bed of blankets, resting on his elbows as Matty nips into his neck, taking deep breaths against his skin. He works Harry out of his jacket, one arm at a time until he can run both hands up Harry’s shirt against the soft skin of his belly. Matty’s fingers cause the ticklish muscles of his stomach to contract under their control as they snake their way up to Harry’s chest, catching on a nipple and rubbing over it again.

Harry purses his lips together as Matty mouths at the underside of his chin and Harry can feel him breathing heavily as their bodies rock together. He lets a moan slip as Matty’s hand finds its way down the front of his pants, cupping his cock but he chokes it back quickly.

“Stop that,” Matty demands into his collarbone as he works open the button on Harry’s pants.

“Stop what?”

“Silencing yourself. I wanna hear you,” he says and it sounds so real - genuine coming from his dry  lips. His cold hands feel more amazing than Harry could have hoped on his own bare flesh.

He whines high in his throat as Matt’s calloused thumb swipes over the head of his dick, his hips canting into the touch.

“You ever done this before?” Matty whispers into Harry’s cheekbone and Harry nods. Matty pulls off of him, sitting on his haunches and unbuckling his worn leather belt, pulling it right out of the loops. Harry’s fingers replace his with haste, receiving a praise in Matty’s eyes that he didn’t know he needed until he’s looking up at an oddly proud smirk that has his stomach in knots.

He gets Matt’s cock out and has his mouth around it in seconds, peering up to sneak a glance at Matty’s expression. He watches his head tip back, lips popping open without a sound and suddenly his hands are in Harry’s curls, pushing his head down gently - more of a suggestion than a demand.  

Harry takes it with grace, allowing Matty to buck up into his mouth in soft movements for a moment before Matty's pulling away, laying him back onto the blankets as he gets his jeans and pants off, setting them aside.

He works next on shedding Harry of his clothing, working to get the snap of his uniform pants undone. Immediately, he's connecting his open mouth to the velvety soft skin of Harry's pelvic bone, his lips brushing over the smattering of hair under Harry's navel.

Harry cants into his touch, whimpering against a balled up fist as the tip of Matty's tongue teases the head of Harry's cock through the fabric of his briefs.

"Mm-"

"Say it," Matty demands anxiously, glancing up and it takes Harry's breath away as the light from the running Nuka-Cola machine casts his features red. "Say my name."

"Matty!" Harry cries and it echos for miles through the empty vault. Breather, he manages a, "Fuck me."

It comes out animalistic when Matty groans low in his throat. He tugs Harry's trousers off so quick it leaves him breathless.

"Spread 'em," Matty commands and Harry is quick to oblige, bending both knees and opening them as Matty wets his fingers. He doesn’t waste time as he presses the tip of his forefinger into Harry, circling around his entrance with it to ensure it’s nice and slick. He leans over and lets a drop of spit fall, spreading that around too.

Harry winces at the pain and is honestly a little shocked as Matt’s lips are pressing a tight kiss into the corner of his cheekbone, forcing his face to smooth out as fingers work him open. Matty takes time to admire the way Harry feels around his digits, working them in different directions until they stroke against Harry’s prostate and Matty watches his body melt into a puddle on the floor, his lips falling open and a long, pleased sound falling out.

“Matty, there.”

Matty smirks at him, knowing exactly what he's doing but humoring Harry nonetheless. “Yeah?”

Harry nods frantically. “C’mon,” he whines, free hand digging it’s fingers into Matt’s shoulder blade.

“You’re not the patient type, eh?” he teases, rubbing a slicked hand over his dick and pressing the tip in, only allowing a minute for Harry to adjust to the intrusion before pushing in until he bottoms out.

He presses his lips to Harry’s ear, skin brushing skin as he speaks. “It’s okay. I’m not either.”

Harry whimpers because he’s not really expecting it as Matty starts to thrust into him, pale fingers finding his hips and digging into the skin as Matty anchors him to the floor.

“I want you to feel this tomorrow - think of me,” he explains through a smirk so dirty it makes Harry blush.

He doesn’t think he could ever forget someone like Matty, but he doesn’t voice the fact. He just hangs on, wrapping his arms around Matty’s neck and breathing into the crook of his collarbone, letting out pleased little moans when Matt hits the spot just right.

Matty isn’t what he thought him to be though; he expected rough and selfish hands pinning him down, bruises left by carelessness in the morning. He instead is surprised to receive quick, instinctive flicks of his hips and a pair of lips attempting little nips at his skin like he’s being savored, kept for later.

“Fuck,” Harry mewls into Matty’s throat, tongue darting out to taste the salt on his skin as Matty presses in particularly deep. His thumbs are rubbing circles around Harry’s jutting hipbones for a just a moment longer before one of them sneaks across the taut muscles of Harry’s tummy, taking hold of his cock. It’s so sensitive with its impending orgasm that Harry jolts from the touch, head tipping back as he lets out a cry.

“You’re gorgeous, babe,” Matty says like an admission against Harry’s shoulder, tongue laving the spot immediately after and the words leave Harry’s stomach in knots and his cheeks pink and flushed.

Matty keeps a tight grip, fisting over Harry’s cock and timing it just out of beat with his thrusts so Harry doesn’t ever get a chance to adjust before he’s tipping over the edge, coming over Matty’s hand with the word “babe” ringing through his head.

He’s panting as Matty pulls out, taking his own cock in hand and he leans in, pressing kisses to Harry’s chest. He strokes himself until he’s coming streaks over Harry’s hip, teeth sunk into the meat of his shoulder.

It takes him a second to gather himself, eyes shut and skin glistening in the red light before he sits back on his heels.

He smirks down at Harry as he grabs a handkerchief from his open bag and cleans him off.

Honestly, Harry doesn’t know what to say, he’s at a loss for words. He could easily go with the typical, “wow, that was great” but he doesn’t really think that covers everything so he wraps a hand around the back of Matty’s neck, fingers dipping into his black locks and pulls him down.

He hesitates as their open mouths brush in a phantom touch, eyes flicking up to meet Matty’s to ask permission. He just breathes him in for a second before dipping his tongue out and Matty is quick to meet it, kissing back in waves as a hand comes up to cup Harry’s cheek.  As he pulls away, the pad of his thumb swipes across the seam of Harry’s lips and it’s almost like a goodbye, the way his eyes rake over Harry’s exhausted features.

He lays down next to him on his back, still completely naked and he watches out of the corner of his eye as Harry scoots closer and tucks himself into Matty’s side. He can’t help but smile at the innocence of it.

 

He’s still awake when Harry’s breathing evens out and his fingers so slack against his chest.

-

Harry jolts awake the next morning and it takes him a good minute to gather where he is. He sits up, pulling the blanket tighter around his naked body and looks around at the empty cafeteria. He can’t help but frown as he gathers that he’s alone, his eyes surveying the mess of blankets around him and the only clothes left on the floor are his own.

He lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his damp curls as he moves to stand. He winces at the soreness in his muscles and immediately smiles after.

It’s not until he’s dressed and collecting his things that he spots a tiny little flashing light on the bar. Upon examination he realizes that the foreign little light is the locator chip that slots into his rifle and that his weapon is probably long gone by now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Im absolutely obsessed with Fallout and 1D so I figured I'd give it a go mashing them up. It's mostly for my own enjoyment, but you can have some too! There are more pairings and characters to come.


End file.
